More Than Just Pretty Faces Chapter 3, a stargate: atlantis fanfic

(Oh my God, you guys are so incredible! Thank you so much! And, hee, cliffhanger queen? Maybe a little...LOL! But I know a bunch of folks worse than me! And you know who you are! Oh, and I have to thank my poor friend Jen for part of this. She'll know why. Let's just say, white water rafting has its hazards...)

MORE THAN JUST PRETTY FACES
CHAPTER THREE: WATER

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Sheppard hit the water feet first, gravity driving him deep. Pain flared up both legs at the harsh impact, but it was nowhere as terrifying as the sensation of the water rushing to fill the funnel caused by his plunge. Then it was everywhere, in his ears, in his eyes, in his mouth, and he struggled to reach the surface...but he no longer knew where the surface was.

He was being twisted and bent, and his back exploded in pain as it impacted a rock, the force of the water slamming him into it like a nail hit by a sledgehammer. The air he'd sucked in as he'd fallen was forcibly expelled from his lungs, and he no longer had the luxury of just finding the surface—he had to.

Suddenly, he was up, exploding out of the waves, driven up with a whirlpool of water that sent him spinning upwards and jetting forward. It was only by luck that he missed another boulder in his path, his burning lungs drawing in needed air just as the water closed in again.

He was turned and turned and turned, any attempts to fight or swim through the current useless. Suddenly he was sucked down into a hole, and he could see sky. Water spun around him, like staring up from a bath drain, and he once more gasped for air. Then it was everywhere again, everywhere and everything.

And then it was calm.

He floated upwards, feeling himself pulled along, still too fast and too quick, the weight of his flak vest nearly pulling him under again. He scrambled to get at it when his brain made the connection that it was dangerous, but his freezing hands couldn't find the buckles fast enough. The P90 tied to it hit his hands, and he tried to knock it away, desperate only not to go down again.

But he was too slow, sucked down under the water again as he was funneled into a natural slide, bobbing up and down and up and down, his world sky and water and white.

And then he fell, screaming, over a waterfall.

Next thing he knew, he was pressed against a rock, hanging on for dear life, not wanting to let go. He wrapped both arms around it, just trying to breathe. His back was on fire, his legs felt numb, his hands were icicles and his face felt about ten sizes too big as he rubbed his cheek against the rough surface.

Right now, he loved this rock. He never, ever wanted to let it go.

And then he saw him.

Rodney!

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Teyla was lying on her side, having just thrown up so much water, she wasn't sure she had any left in her body. Stickiness from the knock on her head told her she was bleeding, and the spots behind her eyes were getting more and more insistent. But she didn't want to sleep—she couldn't. Not now.

Her arms shook as she pushed herself up onto her knees, then flopped down again.

Damn it, Teyla Emmagen, get up!

She would not be beaten by a river! She would not!

Arms gathered themselves beneath her again, and something primal in her pushed up.

She made it to her knees, gasping and half wanting to scream. Arms shaking like trees in a hurricane, she forced her right leg to lift up, and to get her right foot firmly planted on the ground.

And she pushed with her legs.

This time, she did scream, but it was low and guttural, like a roar.

Her body, exhausted, beaten, pain-ridden, obeyed the demands of the mind and stood up.

For a moment, she just stood, forcing her stomach down as it begged her to lean over...no...to bend over...to sit down...and curl into a ball.

Personal demons wouldn't let her. This was her fault. She had brought them here. She had failed to cover Rodney. She had been the one to make the bridge tilt.

Anger, frustration and outright agony turned her around, to face the river, to find the others, her fists clenched by her sides.

All she saw was water.

Achingly slowly, she turned a beating skull to look up river, trying to gauge how far she'd come. She could not see the bridge. Then her face turned downstream, to a waterfall about twenty feet away, and beyond to calm river. Well, calmer.

Her eyes focused on one of the black rocks edging the water fall, blinking hard at it.

A hand wiped shakily across her eyes, and she took a few tentative steps closer to the water, to see better.

At first, she couldn't understand why it looked so odd. Then she did.

It was a perfect triangle poking up out of the water. With carvings on it.

She struggled forward a few more steps along the river's edge, never actually lifting her feet from the ground, leaving deep trails in the sand.

It was a carved rock, but it wasn't a triangle. The water rushed around it, giving the illusion of being a triangle, but it was just the pointed top of something long and thin that disappeared into the water. As she got closer, she could see more of the carvings...and recognized a handful of Ancient symbols. Her lips parted, drawn ever closer to the beautiful rock.

In moments, she was at the edge, looking down over the waterfall to the river below.

And her breath caught.

On a beach below, right next to the waterfall, Sheppard was giving CPR to Rodney.

Hope flared, and it gave her the energy to run into the woods, seeking a way down to their level.

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